


Haunted House

by doodnoice



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Blood and Gore, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fear Play, M/M, Name-Calling, Overstimulation, Penetration, Pet Names, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Reader-Insert, Yandere, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:39:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27970127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodnoice/pseuds/doodnoice
Summary: You pissed off your boss and got assigned to clean up crew after hours in the haunted house, which would normally be just fine except one of the actors is lingering around just a little too long.--Danny Johnson || Ghostface/Readershould've been posted for Halloween, but better late than never ig (ty to the tumblr sweetie who reminded me of this fic)
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Reader, Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/You
Comments: 12
Kudos: 287





	Haunted House

[ **[original]** ](https://doodwrites.tumblr.com/post/636998147633201152/ghostfacereader-haunted-house)

**Word Count** : _~2k_

 **Warnings/Description** : _NSFW, Gender-neutral Reader, Mostly a flimsy excuse for horror smut, Explicit Language, Mirrors, Blood/gore mention, Dub-con, Fearplay, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Possessiveness, Yandere, Overstimulation, Penetration (receiving), Name Calling/Degradation, DBD Ghostboi_

_-_

The broom hits you in the chest with more force than necessary, and when you take it in hand you rub the sore spot it left behind while glaring quietly at your pissant of a boss.

He shoves a finger against your sternum, uncaring of the wince you let out in response, and huffs, “I better not see your sorry ass until the whole place is swept through _twice_ , or I swear to god you’re fired. This is your _very_ last chance.”

You want to roll your eyes, but you manage to keep yourself in check, “I’m sorry, Mr. Romano, I’m a little sick and I overslept-”

“ _Last chance_ ,” he interrupts, eyes narrowing as he steps away, running a chubby hand through his thinning red hair, “Make sure you lock the place up before you leave. You can get your check after you return the keys.”

You frown at the back of his head as he retreats through the cornfield leading out to the first half of the attraction and the main staff lounge. You flip him off when he’s far enough, and make a few dumb faces while your at it. What a jerk. 

You sniff and rub your nose on your sleeve. God, you still can’t smell _anything_ and your head is throbbing. You really shouldn’t even be out here. Yeah, you were late by a couple of hours, but it’s not like you wanted to get sick and leave your co-workers high and dry on one of the busiest weekends of the year.

Halloween is just around the corner, and in the scary attractions business, there’s really no better time to make money. And you really need the money.

With a sigh, you turn towards the haunted house and prepare for the worst.

It’s a two story building, and you have no idea how that asshole expects you to sweep it all by yourself on a normal day, let alone on the half-juiced battery you’re running on now, but you count your lucky stars that’s all he asked you to do instead of insisting on something dumber like resetting all the props, or whatever. At least with sweeping you can lie about it. Who’s really gonna know? The place is usually dark, anyway.

As you walk in, you’re immediately spooked by a Ghostface who set themselves up directly in front of the door, nearly blocking you from entering. You immediately assume it’s one of your co-workers trying to get you back for skipping out of them, and scoff quietly to yourself, “Ha-ha, very funny, dude…”

But of course, no one laughs, not even you.

Your co-worker tilts their head to the side, eyeing you casually, but before they can do so much as respond, you breeze past them with another wispy sigh. You don’t have time for stupid games. You just want to disappear in the back for a few hours and go home.

You don’t notice the way the Ghostface stares after you, or how their knife glints a little too brightly for a plastic prop.

-

It’s been… half an hour, forty-five minutes, tops maybe? And you’re lost and the floor is sticky and kind of slick, not that you’re planning on fixing that problem anytime soon. Mr. Romano said to _sweep_ the floors, not mop them, and after he yelled in your face like he did, you’re inclined to respect the difference.

You do look down, though, vaguely curious about whatever it is you’ve been stepping through, but your co-workers didn’t bother turning on the overhead lights after they left, so the ground mostly looks like what it usually looks like– dark, shitty wooden floorboards. You do note that whatever it is that’s stuck itself to the ground also stuck itself to the bottom of your sneakers. Maybe one of the visitors brought a juice box in with them and dropped it when they got scared?

 _Who cares._ You remind yourself. You’re supposed to be trying to find your way to the hidden break room somewhere in the mirror maze area so you can sleep your work hours away, but you keep getting turned around like the walls are shifting-

Something dark dashes past you on the right, reflected in the multitude of foggy mirrors around you.

You turn quickly, trying to see what it was, but it’s already gone. Your head twinges in pain, making you feel a little dizzy. Fuck, what you wouldn’t do for some pain killers right about now. Too bad your dumbass left it in your bag back in your locker in the main staff lounge room. Why you thought Mr. Romano was gonna be a good person and let you help with counting the ticket sales after you showed up near closing, you don’t know, but you’re regretting it now.

Someone whistles at you from behind, and when you turn around, you see the same co-worker you saw earlier still dressed in their Ghostface garb waving at you with the hand they’re holding their prop knife in.

You curse to yourself, having jumped a little at the sound, and approach them angrily, “What the hell is your-”

The run off, turning some corner before you can finish, and now you’re mad. They’re clearly having fun fucking with you. You go to give chase, but nearly run head first into the mirror you had been looking at them in. So they were actually in front of you? What?

You shake your head, _whatever_. This is making your head hurt worse, you can always threaten one of your other co-workers later to find out who was messing with you, but for right now you just need to sit down.

You make it all of three feet in the opposite direction before a hand shoots out and drags you backwards through a hidden wall.

You yelp, landing against a warm chest and end up caged in a pair of solid arms. You try to wiggle out of their hold, but they’re simply too strong. You lift your leg in preparation of kicking them in the shin, but a glint out of the corner of your eye freezes you.

“Ah, ah, ah,” A man chastises beside your ear, “Why don’t you settle down, doll face, before something _unfortunate_ happens.” He ends his threat with a low chuckle, letting you feel the sharpened edge of the knife tucked up neatly beneath your chin. This is _not_ one of your co-workers.

Your eyes dart around, trying to reorient yourself, and you immediately blanche at the sight you’re met with.

You’re in the spare mirror room, lined with a multitude of old mirrors you’d sometimes use to replace the ones that’d occasionally get shattered. It’s not an especially well lit room, and always struck you as more creepy than the actual house, but that’s not what has your heart racing in fear.

Piles of black garbage bags you don’t recognize sit off in the corner of the room, leaking dark red pools, clearly having been dragged here as indicated by the smears of- of blood leading to them. You think you see a tuft of red hair similar to that of Mr. Romano’s and stifle a scream.

You look up at the man holding you through the mirror, the Ghostface you saw earlier, “Wh-what did you do? Why?”

“ _What did you do?_ ” Ghostface mocks in a high-pitched tone before scoffing, “I know you’re smarter than that, sweetness. As for why, well…” He squishes your cheeks between his fore and thumb fingers and forces you to turn and look at him. You just know he’s smiling. “Let me just show you.”

-

Heat. You’re so hot- _Danny’s_ so hot. You’re not even really sure that’s his real name, but it’s the one he gave you to use, and _god,_ have you been using it.

Your face is pressed into your forearms, Danny at your back, fucking into you at the same slow and deep pace he’s been at for the past few hours. You’ve cum so many times you lost count, but Danny hasn’t even faltered once. It’s insane. _He’s_ insane-

“That’s it, doll, just like that-” 

“Danny!” you squeal, pleasure tightening your core so suddenly your breath stutters in your throat. He’s so thick, stretching you around him with each rough push, pounding you raw and open. 

You claw at the ground, arching your back to help him hit that one spot inside you that has you seeing stars- seeing fucking universes, _you’re so close_ -

When you cum it’s like being punched in the gut. You tighten up, legs shaking and muscles tensing as you desperately try to fight against the pleasure. It hurts, but it feels so, so good. “Please,” you whimper, “D-Danny… Danny! Oh, god…”

His laugh is low and sinister, pressed up against your ear, making you tremble, “You sound so good, sweetness. You feel good, too.” He reaches down to stroke you, forcing you to spasm against him and cry out weakly. He chuckles again, “Perfect… you’re fucking perfect.”

Your face is warm, but you can’t tell if it’s because of his words or because he’s fucking you into next week. His hand works against you, keeping you pressed tight against him, wet and slick and aching around him. You whine, going limp in his hold.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Danny groans, grabbing you by your throat and lifting you until you’re sitting in his lap with your back pressed against his chest, “You’re not allowed to pass out. Not yet. Not until I fill you up, until you’re dripping with my cum.”

You don’t think you say any words, too blissed out to reply. You’re quickly brought back with one particularly hard thrust that has you back to moaning his name.

“-that right, sweetheart? That’s what you want, right?” Danny growls, fucking you harder, faster, is he gonna cum? You think he was talking, but can’t really remember what he said, but you like the way he sounds, now. A little unhinged, but the way he breathes out your name along your throat, biting, sucking, and whispering filthy things your mind can’t quite make out. You just want him to keep making you feel good. Just one more time. 

“Yes, yes, yes… Please, yes…” you don’t know what you’re agreeing with and in hindsight, you really wish you did– not that that would have changed anything.

“I knew it, I knew you wanted me. From the coffee shop with your pretty little face and your pretty little smile.. _Fuck_ , I took so many pictures of you. F-fucked my hand thinking of your tight little hole squeezing around my dick just like this- see-” Danny strokes you roughly with his free hand, smirking against your shoulder and kissing it once as you cry out, “like that, just like that, sweetheart.”

You whimper his name again, your pleasure back at its precipice. Your thighs quiver, knees growing weak as you claw at Danny’s arm trying to find something- _anything_ to keep you grounded.

“Take it, come on _take it_ , you fucking slut.” Danny growls against your throat, “You want my cum, you want me to cum inside of you?”

You nod, leaning into him as you feel yourself falling over the edge with a shout of his name.

“ _Fuck yes_ ,” Danny groans, and then he’s dropping you onto your hands and knees and pounding you into the ground until his hips stutter and he pulls your ass into him as he cums so deep inside of you you can practically feel the heat in your stomach. “Fuck…” he sighs as he pulls out and kisses the back of your neck once before letting you fall to the floor, completely boneless.

You blink in and out of consciousness, only vaguely wondering if he’s going to leave you or kill you now that he’s done, but instead he surprises you. He drapes something over you before scooping you up into his arms and exiting out of the room, mask now firmly in place.

You blink up at him and the confusion must show on your face, because he just laughs in that same way that tells you he’s up to absolutely no good, and continues to make his way out of the haunted house.

“I didn’t hunt you down and kill off the only people who know you for nothing, dollface. You’re mine, and nothing’s gonna stop you from being mine,” He nudges your forehead with his mask, “Not even you.”


End file.
